


Vacillate

by Tripawed



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22439854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tripawed/pseuds/Tripawed
Summary: He even, intellectually, thinks he understands his appeal, he is sterile and so cannot leave them with an unwanted pregnancy, a painful labor and yet another mouth that will need feeding. How does that translate into his appeal to Jaskier?Geralt doesn't 'get' humans - but he wants to. Wants to be included and thought of and even in his deepest fantasies liked. So if he does things he doesn't particularly enjoy for Jaskier's benefit. Does it matter? If it let's him keeps his friend?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg (past)
Comments: 103
Kudos: 561
Collections: Melo Mapo's Favorite Witcher Pairings, The Witcher Alternate Universes





	1. Chapter 1

He hates having somebody else with him at first.

_Hates it._

The noise, the constant touches when he’s not expecting them. Everything is too much, too loud, too hot, too close. Too everything and he feels like he’s constantly on the edge of snapping, snapping and snarling like the beast every passer-by, every human, labels him as.

But Jaskier grows on him and he finds that all too soon he has to force himself to not laugh at the other man's jokes. To not smirk at his one- liners, to not hum along to his singing. To not lean into the touches, not to allow himself to soak up the gentleness that is being offered with off-handed kindness.

He's very grateful, even proud of himself, for his self-restraint when Jaskier heads off to another town, to play for others. To earn some coin. Not to get away from him, he’s sure of that, pretty sure, almost certain, relatively confident that this, this separation is both temporary and not his fault. And it doesn’t worry him, not at all. Nope, he’s very confident that he both isn’t responsible for Jaskier leaving and that he has put enough effort into not becoming used to the other man’s presence.

Until it turns out he needn't have bothered.

His body has become attuned to having another nearby, he catches himself raising out an arm to steady someone who is no longer there as they pass over a slightly deeper than usual creek. He automatically divides his catches - ready to share. He misses the sound of another person - both Jaskiers boundless enthusiasm and energy but also the more sedate human sounds of his breathing.

He'd liked knowing he had someone with him. 

He'd liked having a friend. 

He'd always been too human for the witchers and too monstrous for the humans. Too weird and freakish on both sides of the coin, not fitting in anywhere, even his own mother had barely been able to wait until he was weaned and walking to get rid of him. He’s universally feared and distrusted by humans and monsters alike.

All accept one.

So when he catches up with Jaskier, completely incidentally, he hasn't gone looking for the other man, _He hasn't_ , he is so pleased to see the other man that he takes the initiative and throws his arms around the other man's shoulders. To his relief Jaskier hugs him back and for a few moments all is right in his little world.

When Jaskier pulls back a little, he lets the other man go, well aware of how much stronger he is of the other man. How easily he could frighten or, worse still, hurt his only friend. Jaskier plants a kiss on his mouth and for a moment he freezes, every muscle locking up tightly, he worries. Renfri had often kissed him, and she'd betrayed him almost as frequently. Popping into and out of his life as she pleased, he'd often missed her, lamenting his inability to get her to stay with him, to save her in the end. So when Jaskier begins to pull back, he panics. Parts his lips and lets the other man kiss more deeply into his mouth.

It's not a bad kiss, and technically speaking he's even safer with Jaskier than he was with Renfri, and if this is what he needs to do to keep his friend happy then why shouldn't he? Maybe this time he can do it well enough, play the part of lover and friend with enough skill that Jaskier will stay. 

He feels grateful though when Jaskier pulls back and pants against his mouth. He leans his forehead against the others angling his face to create a gap between them, relishing the contact but anxious of the sexuality.

"It's so good to see you!" Jaskier crows, and he feels those words. Hides them down inside the depths of himself that still holds the last memories of his humanity. He'd always been more human that his brothers, he finds that Jaskier brings this out of him. 

This, selfish and undesirable, human desire for company and companionship.

He flounders for a reply but thankfully Jaskier is too used to him barely speaking to pay it much mind.

"Man, Geralt, it's been.... How long?"

"Four months, two weeks and six days." He replies, only realising when Jaskier goes a little wide eyed that he'd revealed something about himself. 

"You missed me!" Jaskier crows, and he freezes waiting for the revulsion. Mockery.

He grunts an agreement his throat a bit dry now with panic. Fearful of how Jaskier will use this information, how it can be used against him.

“I knew I burrowed under that cold surface, Geralt! Now, where is my best girl?”

“Huh?”

“Roach! Where is she?”

“Uhh, she’s-” he nods in the direction of the little camp he’d set up for himself, hoping that Jaskier will come along with him. To see Roach if nothing else.

“Well, let’s go!”

Relief floods his veins and for an hour or so it’s like old times. Jaskier fusses, over Roach, over the state of his bedrolls, over the lack of food, over the cold, everything and he is able to stand in the reflected glow of Jaskier’s warmth and humanity and let the stolen normality wash over him. The tensed muscles in his neck and shoulders begin to unwind and he feels the tight feeling in his throat and chest begin to ease with the passing minutes spent in company beyond that of his horse.

He catches dinner, cleans it away from the camp and shares the catch, gives Jaskier the nicer half of the rabbit, knowing that the other man is more than a little squeamish about his meat when he was able to distinguish it as once living. Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice the effort just continues to give him an account of seemingly every single second that they have been parted. He tries to listen attentively and tries even harder to think of something to say whenever there is a lull in the conversation but finds himself repeating himself over and over, “really?” or “what then?” or his old stand by “hmmm.”

Thankfully, Jaskier takes it in his stride and doesn’t let the lack of a truly competent audience from preventing him from spinning his yarn and telling increasingly tall tales.

Darkness falls quickly, more quickly than he would like, before he’s managed to find the courage and the method to broach a conversation about the kiss. About what it means.

Is that why Jaskier left?

He still doesn’t really understand totally why Renfri left him, used him, or what he does wrong, but he knows that she, and plenty of other women have enjoyed his body, and it often keeps them returning to him. Even if he can’t figure out how to get them to stay.

He even, intellectually, thinks he understands his appeal, he is sterile and so cannot leave them with an unwanted pregnancy, a painful labor and yet another mouth that will need feeding. How does that translate into his appeal to Jaskier?

He worries at his lip a little in the gathering gloom, he knows a little of how men can lie together, how they can find completion in each others arms. He has spent most of his life in a homosocial environment and has seen and heard enough that he thinks he understands the mechanics of the act even if the drive to perform it is a mystery to him.

But then the desire to lie with women had been a mystery to him as well in the beginning.

He’d been completely baffled the first time, a noblewoman who had needed his help had asked him for a more ‘personal’ favour and he’d followed her into her room expecting to be needed to carry something heavy or perhaps move a mouse or some other kind of dead thing. He’d had vague memories of that kind of thing distressing the fairer sex. It had come as a surprise when she had slid a hand under his shirt and another into his trousers.

Afterwards he had staggered from the room, shaken and completely overwhelmed. The smells and sounds had been more than he’d been able to bear and he had lain under her as she had taken her fill of him, struggling to endure the touch and the noise without lashing out or struggling away from her and possibly accidentally hurting her in the process..

He had recounted the event, later, much later to one of his brothers, hoping for some kind of reassurance and perhaps a lesson on how to avoid such events again. 

To his disappointment his brother had clapped him on the back and congratulated him.

He’d never mentioned it again.

When women had shown an interest in him, and he’d learned eventually to differentiate what they wanted - work or pleasure- from the scent of their bodies, he had complied and left as soon as he was able.

Until Renfri, he’d complied with her because he loved her. He had wanted her to stay with him or him with her and had done whatever he had been able to understand that she wanted from him to try and make it happen.

Losing her had been a blow, everytime he remembers it it is another failing another bereavement. Even after all these years.

He has just been given a taste of losing Jaskier, and it was awful, he cannot mess this up too.

He’s just opening his mouth to ask Jaskier what he wants, when Jaskier pats him on the back and says, “well, wow, busy day. I’m off to bed.”

The smell of Jaskier’s interest emanates from him in waves and he forces himself to rise while simultaneously forcing the contents of his stomach back down as it makes an attempt to rise.

He curls under the blankets with Jaskier curled up next to him and if it wasn’t for the tension in Jaskier’s muscles and the scent of desire in his nose he could almost pretend it was like old times.

“Night.” Jaskier whispers.

“Uh, night.” he blurts after a second, confused and wrong footed. He lies tense and waiting for Jaskier to make a move. Nothing happens and after several long minutes of waiting he hears the little snuffles of Jaskier sleeping. Not quite snores but the deeper inhalation of the unconscious.

Nothing happens all night and in the morning it is just like he’d never been away.

He revels in the feeling of not being alone again and bounces along with a spring in his step listening to Jaskier’s complaints and commentary all the way along the road to the closest town. He is hoping to find work there and be able to earn some extra coin to put aside for the winter.

As they approach the town dusking is falling and they have been travelling all day, he can see the lights through the trees, and he notices them at almost the same time as Jaskier.

“Hey, we should go and find a pub, I can try out my new material. If we get enough coin we can get a hot meal and a room, perhaps even another bath?”

There is something in the words, a trace of a tone that he doesn’t quite understand - not truly but he hums his agreement and follows the road down along into the little town

They come across a tavern quickly, and it’s at least half full, on a dour autumnal evening it’s full of people seeking cheer before the dark days of winter descend upon them.

Jaskier dances up to the counter and the woman behind the bar melts at his merry, wide eyed charm. She agrees quickly, almost eagerly to the suggestion of a bard and his music in exchange for a couple of meals, a bath and a bed for the night, her face dimpled and pleasant as she looks at Jaskier. It hardens into a scowl as she turns her gaze onto him and he has to remember not to flinch from it.

He sits in the corner, back to the wall, with an ocean of emptiness around him as all the humans in the room subtly shift away from him leaving him with a row of turned backs and faces angles away from his. Jaskier sings and smiles at him from across the crowd and he forces himself to smile back. But all the while he wonders if he’s not doing Jaskier a disservice, not damaging him somehow be inflicting his otherness onto the man.

It was different with Renfri, she was different all by herself and frankly she was powerful enough that it didn’t matter what other people thought of her. She didn’t give a fuck.

He wishes he didn’t too.

It’s so late it’s early by the time Jaskier has wooed the crowd out of as much coin as he’s going to be able to in a small tavern like this and returns to him, threading his way through the thinner crowd, holding two plates aloft.

“Come on, let’s take them upstairs, the bath is ready too!”

He follows on silent as always.

He lets Jaskier bathe first, needs the time to settle himself being unsettled and trying to work out why he feels so upset. He still hasn't managed to work it out when Jaskier crowds him into the bath as soon as it's free and proceeds to sit behind him rubbing oil into.his shoulders.

In many ways it's like old times, the same strong, calloused hands on his shoulders, the same chatter in his ear but now it makes him struggle to relax from his instinctive huddle.

"You're all knotted." Jaskier tells him and he grunts a response. "You need to learn to relax."

After the bath, it's bedtime and follows Jaskier in under the covers. Swallowing back nerves.

It's stupid really, he tells himself. He's much stronger than Jaskier, much bigger and brawnier, he could defend himself against the other man.

As long as he could bring himself to fight back that is.

To his untold relief Jaskier simply huddles close, sliding in until his body is curled around Geralt's before he stills and begins to snore almost immediately.

Too much wine and song have had their effect and Geralt is glad of it.

He's woken by a murmur of his name.

Jaskier.

Even asleep the other man talks.

As though hearing his thoughts the blue eyes open and caught he can't look away.

"You were dreaming," he grunts, hoping that human eyes are too full to see his blush in the dark.

He feels Jaskier freeze against him. "Yeah, humans generally do that. Dream. Pretty normal."

"You were dreaming about me." He huffs, hurt that Jaskier would bring his lack of humanity into it. Worried about what it means that he's using it as a threat.

Jaskier sighs but burrows a little closer. "Yeah."

"Does your dream indicate a desire?" He presses, a little afraid of the answer, aware that he's probably being awkward. 

His worst fears are realised when Jaskier squirms, his face heating. "Sorry. Well, you already knew that didn't you. But don't worry because -"

"What if I told you I would be.. amenable?" 

"Amenable?" Jaskier asks, as though the word means nothing at all and he keeps his mouth shut in case he's managed to mess up the English language now as well as social situations.

"Well," Jaskier asks finally, "What do you mean?" Jaskier clears his throat a little, "To …?"

"Intercourse."

It was clearly the wrong thing to say as Jaskier states at him for a moment before chuckling. Stung, he tries to retreat but is stopped by a hand on his arm. "No, it's fine, you're fine, I'm fine. Just – surprised."

His heart manages to sink and soar at the same time. "So, you will have... You want to fuck, then?"

"But – I – do you really want to?" Jaskier asks finally, "because, I want to but you seemed a bit, I don't know, earlier?"

He hesitates and almost confesses when he feels Jaskier just begin to retreat and panics, "yes," he breathes rapidly, before he looses his nerve.

It can't be anything worse than he's had happen to him before.


	2. Chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented. You have all made my day and I appreciate every last one, I am sorry that I haven't really responded - very rude of me - the events of the real world have been kicking my butt. Switching to homeworking has been a nightmare and I've been working on my assignments and stuff as well!  
> Enough excuses, on with the story.

Geralt swallows hard as Jaskier moves in close. He expects a hand in his pants, readies himself to offer the same. It honestly one of the parts of sex he likes least, it's the texture of that it that squicks him. Too much like the various mucus slimes that far too many monsters secrete.

Soft, slightly chapped lips brush against his own. It's barely there before it's gone again. He has to fight not to flinch, no one kisses a Witcher - that is just not how it's done. Jaskier takes advantage of his surprise and kisses a little more firmly, a tongue sneaks out to slide across his lips. A bit numbly, Geralt opens his mouth to allow Jaskier inside, all the time his mind whirrs with confusion. How can it be that after giving permission, actually verbal permission - and who wants that from a witcher either - all Jaskier wants to do is kiss him. It's not too bad either, he wouldn't choose to kiss anyone, but the closeness of Jaskier is nice. 

The warmth of his body, the smell of his hair.

Jaskier sucks on his bottom lip, and Geralt twitches as a blunt human tooth grazes across his lip.

"You like that?"

"Um-? I?" His confusion must be audible as Jaskier pulls back a little and looks at him.

"Are you ok?" Jaskier asks his voice barely a whisper, "you look really.... Frightened." Geralt opens his mouth to protest. "No," Jaskier adds hurriedly, "don't, I know, big bad witcher. But are you ok?"

He doesn't answer, just presses forward and licks into Jaskier's mouth, capturing the bard's sharp inhale into his mouth and licking across Jaskier's lips in a replication of what the bard did to him, opening up his mouth to allow Jaskier inside. In his arms Jaskier groans into his mouth and presses more firmly against him and Geralt shivers at the feeling of Jaskier's hard cock on his thigh.

After a few more minutes of kissing Jaskier pulls away and trying not to look or feel relieved Geralt follows him, “why?”

“I.. I just.” Jaskier shrugs, “let’s sleep on it and see how you feel in the morning.”

Jaskier presses one last kiss, closed mouth and oddly sweet on his before he wriggles over and presses back until his back is pressed against Geralt’s chest.

“But- I-”

“Humour me,” Jaskier says, “for now though sleep.”

Geralt grunts an agreeing sound into Jaskier’s soft dark hair and waits for the other man to fall asleep before he loosens his grip and rolls onto his back - what had he done wrong? He’d expected to feel relieved but all he can feel is barely restrained panic. He has managed to screw up, he hasn’t lived up to expectations.

During training failing to live up to expectations could get you killed - by accident or through the use of more mutagens than your body could handle. What will the consequence be here? 

_ Jaskier will leave - _ a little voice in the depth of his brain chimes in.  _ Just like everyone else. _

Geralt groans and runs a hand over his face, he can’t argue - that is what is likely to happen.

He doesn’t sleep - not a wink all night, but when he feels Jaskier beginning to stir beside him he moves. 

Leaning in he licks a line up the other man’s throat, pulls out all the moves that he has had taught to him over the years as he licks downwards, sucking a nipple into his mouth. Hoping that it feels as pleasing to men as women seem to find it.

It works, Jaskier groans, his eyelashes fluttering and his spine curving upwards to press his chest closer to Geralt’s mouth.

“Geralt.” he moans before his eyes are even open and Geralt hums back, his heart beating faster as Jaskier groans again.

Jaskier tugs at his shoulders urging him up and for a moment Geralt resists before wondering if Jaskier truly wants him to stop - maybe Jaskier wants to get dressed and leave already?

"Why – why do you wanna do this?" Jaskier asks, his voice a bit rough and his breath smells truly terrible in the morning, it’s all Geralt can do not to flinch away. "Are you sure that you still want to?"

“Yes.” Geralt says simply, and then when he sees Jaskier’s eyes begin to narrow adds, “I like you, you’re,” he pauses because how can he say enough without saying too much, “not afraid of me.” he pauses again, “or disgusted.” he adds, “right?”

“No,” Jaskier says and he smells content now, almost happy, “I don't fear you.” It relaxes something deep in Geralt’s chest to hear it.

Jaskier leans into Geralt and kissed him again, tongue sliding over his lips and Geralt opens up to allow Jaskier into his mouth, Jaskier slides a tongue across his teeth and groans into Geralt's mouth as Geralt works himself up to touching his tongue to Jaskier's.

"I want to touch you, can I?"

Geralt doesn't know what to say, afraid that Jaskier will hear the dishonesty if he speaks.m, he presses forward and kisses Jaskier again trying to press on without having to talk. Jaskier presses a palm on his chest and pushes him gently back.

"I'm going to need your words, Geralt." He says seriously and the smile that is nearly always around his lips is missing, "I need to hear it, please."

"You can touch me." He says, hoping he doesn't sound as though he is admitting a terrible secret.

Jaskier smiles then and slides a gentle palm over Geralt's sides. His hands are very warm and the feeling of Jaskier's hands on his body is so familiar that he actually manages to relax despite the smell of Jaskier's arousal in the air. 

_ Then again,  _ he muses,  _ that's not unfamiliar either. _

Jaskier slides a hand across Geralt's chest and kisses at his collar bones, "you're beautiful, you know."

"I- no, I mean, you, you're-" Geralt pauses afraid of saying too much, afraid of not saying enough, "when I see you it makes me feel like... Like that could be enough." He bites his lips, "just to look at you, to know that you're there, that's enough for me."

Jaskier's face does something, it's warm and soft, and Geralt feels a pain in his chest at the sight - because he's lying, not about how he feels, but about what he wants and he shouldn't 

"I want to see you, can I?" Jaskier asks, his voice hushed in a way that Geralt normally only hears near temples. Geralt strips his shirt off, telling Jaskier, "yes." As he does in case the man needs to hear him again.

"Wow." Jaskier says, stroking down Geralt's abs and Geralt feels the muscles of his belly tick in response despite his best efforts to endure the touch stoically.

He grunts in response unsure of what he should say.

Jaskier laughs and Geralt tries to relax again. "So communicative!" He jests, "did you use up your word allowance before?"

"Yes," Geralt snips back happy to be on firmer territory, "every one from now on will cost you a copper."

"I shall have to treasure them then."

"Hmmm."

Jaskier crowds on top of him so they are chest to chest and kisses down his torso and Geralt reminds himself that he needs to take an active part in this, he cannot just lie there - that's something that he has heard men complain about in taverns up and down the continent. He takes a deep breath to ensure that his hands don't shake and reaches for the laces on Jaskier's pants,

small clothes, Jaskier moans as his hands brush against his groin and Geralt bites his lip. Jaskier hisses out a breath and rubs along Geralt's lip with his thumb.

"You look-" Jaskier trails off and Geralt hopes this won't be too unflattering, he is used to insults and mockery, even from the humans who bed him but he doesn't want to hear it from Jaskier. "You look like a dream."

Geralt blinks. Then slides his hand into Jaskier's pants before the other man can say something else confusing and overwhelming.

Jaskier is hard and he rocks up to Geralt's fingers groaning and wrapping his fingers into Geralt's hair. Reflexively Geralt stiffens.

"Sorry," Jaskier says, "no hair pulling, I got it."

"I-"

Jaskier thumbs at Geralt's nipples and the platitude he'd been about to offer dies on his lips as he grunts at the touch. Geralt wraps his fingers around Jaskier's length and squeezes a little from the confines of his pants and Jaskier groans again.

"Is this ok?" Geralt asks, because Jaskier clearly likes to have everything out in the open. And Geralt will oblige him as far as he can, except for his secret.

"God's, yes - like that, firm, your callouses are... I'm going to write songs about them."

"I would prefer it if you did not."

"Be less sexy then."

He knows that Jaskier doesn't mean it but the words hurt anyway. He pushes away the sting, he can examine the wound later when he can think about it and see how deep that sentence will go in his psyche.

"Off?" Jaskier asks, "everything?"

Geralt grunts and tugs his hand away and he half chuckles, despite himself at Jaskier's pout at the lack of touch on his cock. That too is familiar and comfortable. Or less uncomfortable than it would normally be.

Geralt slides his pants off and tugs at the lace that holds his small clothes gathered at his hips until it comes undone and the linen slides down his thighs. At once he realises that he has made a mistake.

Jaskier stops undressing and they both stare at his soft cock with twin expressions of dismay.

"Are you o-?

"Slow heart." He snaps, despite himself feeling embarrassed and defensive, "and I'm more than a hundred, I think?"

"Oh, so little Geralt needs a little encouragement?"

"Little Geralt just does things in his own time."

Jaskier slides down onto his knees and Geralt makes a grab for him confused. "What?"

"I want to suck you?" Jaskier says, suspended with Geralt's hands in his armpits holding him off the floor. "Do you not like that?"

"Suck me?"

"Do you not get that from the whores in the brothels?"

"I don't go." He says without thinking about it, before colouring, "often! I mean," he adds becasue it's not quite a lot, he went once to see if he liked the sex better when he was choosing to have it, so once in 60 or 70 years probably counts as 'not often'.

"Then you, my friend, are in for a treat." Jaskier says, before leaning forwards and licking over Geralt's cock.

Geralt grunts in shock before tugging a little more at Jaskier. "No, you can't." He hisses, his mind confused as his body likes the touch but his brain disagrees, "it's not, it's demeaning for you."

"Demeaning for me to bring you pleasure?"

"At my feet, yes!"

"I want to."

Geralt pauses, because what can he say to that? "I-"

Jaskier's mouth descends upon him again and Geralt bites back an embarrassing noise, halfway between groan and protest.

"I- tell me how I can please you?" He begs, instead wanting Jaskier to stop touching him so much, needing some space so he can think, he shouldn't be accepting pleasure, he should be giving it. That's what he's for.

"Oh," Jaskier looks up at him, "you're? You're a bit of a sub?" Geralt blinks again, feeling lost and a bit stupid, "that makes sense now I think about it." Jaskier adds, and Geralt is glad because it should to one of them he supposes. "No wonder you like it when I wash you and tell you to go to bed. That's what you want isn't it?"

"Yes?" Geralt replies, drawing the word out in his confusion, because, honestly, that is true. He dies like that, it's evidence of care. He treasures it, every incidence of Jaskier's affection is imprinted in his memory, flashes of light throughout the bleakness of long years of existence.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I've got you."

Geralt nods hesitantly.

"What's your word?"

"I-?" Geralt tries not to feel like the dumbest man on the continent, and fails miserably. "Roach?" He offers, hoping it will do, it is his favourite word after Jaskier.

"Yeah, good idea, you won't forget that one. I don't think we should do anything too extreme. I've got a list though, you can go through it later and check off the ones you want to try or do again, yeah?"

Geralt nods, forget dumbest man on the continent, he is the dumbest living thing, possibly even dumber.

"Ok, what do you want then?"

"I... I want to go to bed with you." He offers. His heart is thumping again as he tries to work out what on earth is happening and how he should be responding.

"Ok, do you want to fuck me?"

"I-?"

"Because that fine with me, I'd love to get this dick inside me." At the words Jaskier gives his half interested dick a squeeze and Geralt feels it thicken a little more in Jaskier's hand. "Or I can -"

"I want you to fuck me." Geralt says, very seriously, he has no idea how he should fuck another man and he isn't going to risk Jaskier. Trial and error is fine when it's learning how to sew clothes or cook over a campfire, it's not when he might hurt his human friend. His only friend.

Jaskier's eyes turn black as his pupils blow wide, "fuck."

"Yes."

Geralt backs up as Jaskier nudges him, until they end up back on the bed Jaskier between his legs. Jaskier kisses him again.

"I'm going to make this do good for you," Jaskier promises, before sucking on a finger, "so good, don't you worry." Then he slides a hand between Geralt's thighs and presses against his asshole.

Geralt lets out a squeak that he is going to be defending himself to Jaskier from until his dying day and closes his legs.

"No?" Jaskier asks, "need more slick?"

Unwilling to back down and disappoint, Geralt nods but internally his mind whirls, can Jaskier even get his cock... there? Presumably, as Jaskier certainly believes so and Geralt knows that Jaskier is very experienced in these matters.

Jaskier gets up and Geralt panics.

"Wait!" He blurts.

"Hey, baby, it's ok." Jaskier soothes, "I'm just getting some oil, slick you up."

Geralt feels his face heat and squirms under Jaskier's gaze.

"You look so good. I can't wait to be inside you."

Geralt nods, resolve flooding him, he needs to do this, for Jaskier.

Jaskier returns and now he knows what to expect, the slick finger that presses against his asshole is less of a shock, it is still a surprise when it slips inside. The finger slides in and out, slow and gentle and Jaskier kisses at his neck, biting gently at his ear lobe.

"What can I do for you?" He asks, uncomfortable with the one-sided nature of the act, Jaskier is doing all the work.

"Let me get you ready."

Obediently he lies back and tries to relax, concentrates on the feeling, tries to will a response out of his cock.

Jaskier adds a second finger and Geralt murmurs at the sudden stretch and feeling of fullness even as Jaskier mouthes at his jaw and peppers little kisses across his face. The fingers twist and dig a little deeper before -

"God's!" He almost jack knives Jaskier off the bed as his body spasms under the wave of heat that runs up his spine.

"Ahh, there it is, I was beginning to think you didn't have one!"

"What?" He asks without thinking.

"Did no one ever take the time to find your pleasure centre, Geralt?"

"Let's not talk of others." Geralt offers hastily, not wanting to get into his inexperience. Not ever, but especially not when Jaskier has two fingers still twisted inside him.

Jaskier chuckles and touches that spot inside him again and Geralt hears himself whine. Soft, wet descend upon his dick and Geralt gasps thrusting instinctively into the feeling.

Caught between the two feelings he lies pinned, his mind whirrs as he tries to understand his body's response to these acts. Why it likes this and his mind does not. Or why it makes him uncomfortable at least. This is less uncomfortable, he thinks, maybe, perhaps.

It is Jaskier which does make him less tense, and he is choosing this, even if he would never choose to if he could and still keep his friend.

Another finger and more oil, the lips around him press tighter. A tongue flickers against the head of his cock and he sees white.

He wants to stop and to just hold Jaskier close, he wouldn't mind touching Jaskier if that's what the other man wanted, he could do that.

"Are you ready? Can I?"

"Yes."

He has no idea if he is or not.

The fingers are pulled out and he takes a big breath in relief.

Jaskier pours oil over himself and shuffles in, placing a hand on Geralt's hip.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

The stretch of it burns and Geralt breathes deeply and makes himself relax. Everything hurts less when you relax, he tells himself.

Jaskier stills, and leans down, rests his forehead against Geralt's.

And that's it, that's what he needed, that simple touch, to bolster him through this ordeal.

Jaskier's hips pull back and Geralt groans at the feeling. Then jerks into another spasm, wrapping his arms around Jaskier tightly as Jaskier grazes over that spot inside him as he presses in again.

Geralt forces his eyes open as Jaskier repeats the movement and looks at the other man's face. It's almost too close to focus on but Jaskier looks beatific.

His face is almost angelic and Geralt loves him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend I didn't abandon this for ages. Yes? Yeah.

They carry on travelling together, on and off. The off times are the worst and Geralt feels every moment of their parting, worries that this will be the last time that he will see Jaskier. The last time he has anything approaching a _family._

He has his other wolves, of course, Eskel in particular, but he can only see them for a few weeks a month or two at most over the harshest weeks of the winter before he, and they, must set their feet upon the path and walk away from each other.

He misses them too, but not in the same keen way he misses Jaskier. He misses the other man’s presence, he relies upon him. He struggles with human’s but with Jaskier it is so much easier. When an overly friendly woman, smelling of lust and clearly seeking the challenge and the infamy of fucking a Witcher, aproaches him in a bar when Jaskier is with him, he stiffens and Jaskier runs the woman off while smiling and flirting until she walks away without even feeling slighted. Or insisting that Geralt come with her. 

He loves Jaskier a little more for that. 

Every time he sees the bard he loves a little more even when he is certain he must have reached the breadth and depth of his devotion he finds that when Jaskier smiles at him, wide and fond, he can expand his heart a little more.

It should hurt he thinks to allow have his heart pulled wider, Jaskier pushing at his confines and edging into emotions that he had thought long dead, and it aches a little sometimes to think of all the empty wasted years behind him - and those ahead without Jaskier too, but mostly it feels like the heat of a bath after coming in from the snow -curative and lovely.

The on times bring their challenges too, Jaskier talks too much, the constant stream of noise and touch can make it hard to think and he knows that he is too grumpy, always unable to say anything for fear of upsetting his... friend? Lover? Until the irritation bubbles over and he is left with a few days of anxiety and misery knowing that he has hurt the other man.

The sex too, is troubling.

He tries to like it, tries so hard, willing every fiber of his body to become accustomed to it.

He just cannot find anything other than distaste for the whole endeavour - the sweating and the smell. Every time he feels a hair’s breadth away from losing control, it’s overwhelming.

And there is the fear of disappointing Jaskier that dogs his every step.

He visits a whore house when they are apart - asks them, while blushing and stuttering, to teach him what they can of pleasing men. He knows he is less experienced than Jaskier and he feels the weight of his ignorance at every touch. 

It is worth it though - in the end, after the sex, when Jaskier rolls over and holds his hand, laces their fingers together and sleeps with Geralt’s hand tucked up to his chest. Holding it close - like a child does with a toy.

It’s worth it when he sees Jaskier sitting up in bed, in the mornings when they have stayed at an inn and he has nothing pressing to get up for. He watches Jakier writing his songs, muttering and crossing out, humming snatches of song or drumming out beats on his thighs or Geralt’s chest if it’s under his touch at the time. The whore’s teach him how to touch Jaskier in return - back rubs and foot rubs are amongst the lessons and Geralt loves it.

_Loves it._

He loves Jaskier under his hands, warm and alive, loves to rub away the hurts and the cares of the day. Adores the way Jaskier goes soft and heavy, limp, quiet and oh,so, trusting in his grasp. Rough hewn hands that were made to wield a sword and Jaskier soaks up their touch. Even when Geralt’s hands are on his neck, even when Geralt is rubbing at his _hands._

Jaskier remains trusting and unafraid even when Geralt literally holds his life and his livelihood in his hands. 

The contentment he feels with Jaskier under his hands is enough, he tells himself, when Jaskier reaches out to touch back, when he allows Jaskier to roll him over and press close, and press _in._

He refuses to take Jaskier, the terror of hurting him won’t leave him - haunts his very dreams. He has woken up tense and sweating over the very thought of the other man’s blood on his hands, on his cock. Of Jaskier’s tears spilling down his face, his muffled sobs.

They meet at another tavern on a rainy evening and Jaskier holds onto his arm, his face is open and there is real warmth in his eyes. In the gloom of their corner Geralt leans his forehead against Jaskier’s and breathes in the scent of the other man, Jaskier huddles in and smoothes a thumb over the back of Geralt’s hand and Geralt feels the familiar feeling of his heart expanding a little further.

“I’ve missed you,” Jaskier says into the warm space between their faces, “What have you been up to since I saw you last?”

“Hunting.”

“Aww, thank you, baby, you know I love it when you tell me your stories!”

“Come upstairs,” Geralt says, hiding a wince at the scent of arousal that blooms at his words, “I’ll rub your back and you can tell me everything that has happened since I saw you last.”

“And what shall I give you?”

“Wash my hair?” Geralt asks, and Jaskie nods against him but chuckles too.

In their room, Geralt strips his clothes off and steps into the tub, lets the warm water lap at his sides and slides his feet up over the rim of the tub. Jaskier sits up behind him and pours water, just the right temperature, over his hair before rubbing the soap into his scalp, those strong lute playing fingers trailing over his hair feel so good that Geralt has to close his eyes. He is careful not to make a sound worried that Jaskier will hear and become aroused. He can’t tease the other man.

They end up in bed and Geralt manages to persuade Jaskier down and pours some oil on his hands and strokes down the other man’s spine, rubbing at Jaskier’s shoulders.

To his relief Jaskier goes pliant and sleepy and he is able to slide into the bed next to him and gather him close. The thump of Jaskier’s heart lulls him into sleep.

They head to Cintra, Jaskier wanting him to accompany him as protection from disgruntled husbands in his past.

The ball is overly fancy, Geralt allows Jaskier to dress him, knowing how much it means to the other man and allowing it despite the constriction of the clothing and the way some of the eyes in the room linger over him, staring at his legs, his thighs, his ass. He keeps his face blank with every ounce of his self control. He wishes he was unwashed and wearing his least flattering clothes - he has noticed that it stems some of the interest in him if he looks like he has just rolled in shit.

They spend the first night in shared chambers and he knows that Jaskier is interested as soon as the other man closes the doors to their shared room. Geralt swallows and leans into Jaskier’s embrace.

Jaskier gathers him close afterwards and Geralt holds Jaskier back relishing in the contact, wishing that he could have this - this closeness without the rest. But that wouldn't be fair would it? He would be getting more than he is giving and it wouldn't be fair. He closes his eyes, wraps Jaskier a little more firmly in his arms and sleeps.

They leave Cintra in a huge hurry.

Geralt feels guilty at having stolen someone else's child, laid claim to an unborn babe by way of its father without the consent of it's mother. He gnaws his lips as they move along the road, Jaskier is chattering away a constant stream of noise and half formed song and Geralt wishes he would be quiet, even if just for a little time. While he gets his thoughts in order.

If it hadn't been a stolen child, he thinks he could almost be pleased at this development, if it was orphan or a needy child, it still wouldn't be ideal. Life on the path is not ideal for anyone and a child least of all but Geralt would love to give Jaskier a family. He is certain that Jaskier is meant for a family. For hearth and home and all the sweetness and comfort that could be brought from that.

Another way in which Geralt fails him, another thing that Geralt is taking from Jaskier. 

He is a failure of a lover and a failure of a family.

He bited his lip harder until blood wells up and runs down his chin.

He hears, from gossip, passing through cities close to Cintra that his child surprise is a girl. He hopes she's healthy, he hopes she's happy.

Rumours of war unsettle him, his child surprise, his child, his daughter could be in very real danger even as he tries to persuade himself that she must be one of the best protected people on the continent. 

She is also one of the most hunted.

Jaskier is in his thoughts too, and follows Geralt still despite how Geralt begs him to spend this year in Oxenfurt, away from the potential of bloodshed.

As the rumours of War become concret, become more and more unavoidably true Geralt panics.

How can he protect them? Deep in his heart he knows that he would protect all of humanity equally, as he should - such is his role on the Path - and he knows he would. Right up until he had to make a choice, Jaskier or...

He cannot think of another living being, except for perhaps Roach or Eskel that he could put in that place where he would not choose Jaskier. 

And he trusts Roach and Eskel to fend for themselves.

How can he love Jaskier so much? So much that he would risk him in a conflict? He must be even more twisted and broken than even Geralt had given himself credit for.

The answer comes to him late one night and despite how it pains him he knows what he must do.

He wakes Jaskier early and, steeling himself, he slides a hand down the other man's ribs.

"Good morning." He whispers in Jaskier's ear in a way that he knows will make the other man shiver.

"And a very good one it looks like it's going to be, indeed." Jaskier rasps back, his face has lines on where the bedding has pressed against his cheek.

"I-" he swallows a bit, his lessons from the whores, years ago now, have mostly been used but he has been saving one for a special occasion. "I, have heard about, when- uh, during, you know, the one who is," he pauses and looks desperately, “being, uh, penetrated is one top?”

He feels Jaskier shudder under him and the smell of Jaskier’s arousal blooms thick and potent into the air between them.

He fixes his gaze onto the wall as he sinks down onto Jaskier’s cock. Under him, Jaskier groans, the sound strained and yet..awestruck. Geralt cannot bring himself to look down, not while he is adjusting to the feeling of Jaskier inside him, but he gropes blindly for Jaskier’s hand, laces their fingers together to give himself something to hold onto during the ordeal.

“You,” Jaskier pants as they lie together, “are a marvel.”

Geralt grunts, not wanting to talk about it but aware that Jaskier does, the other man almost _needs_ to discuss these things and that as his friend, his lover, Geralt owes him the opportunities, especially as he is going to need to leave. Leave Jaskier behind for his own safety.

He lets Jaskier talk until they get up and head down the narrow staircase together - the steps are worn down in the centres where countless feet have climbed up and down over the years, he looks at the worn wood until it fills his whole vision, trying to relax. This is going to be fine - it’s temporary and Jaskier will understand and agree to remain in Oxenfurt, safe and then Geralt will be able to find his child surprise and return. If Jaskier will want him to or allow him to.. _No,_ Gerat tells himself, _this is going to work out, just be positive. That’s the key!_

“So,” he mumbles through a mouthful of bread as they head to the stables, “I think, I think you should go to Oxenfurt and stay there for the year.”

“Huh?” Jaskier says, looking baffled, “are you? Are you breaking up with me?”

“No, no, no, no... no. No,” he hurries to explain, “No, it's just that it's very dangerous and I must go to Cintra.”

“Right...,” Jaskier says, “and I should definitely come with you, Geralt. Honestly, who knows more about how to deal with kids, me or you?”

Geralt grunts in his throat.

“That’s right,” Jaskier replies as though he had spoken, “me. You’ll need help to keep her safe.”

 _But then who will keep you safe?_ Geralt worries as he tacks Roach. “Yes,” he acknowledges, “but-”

“But nothing, you and me, the dream team. Ready to conquer the world yet again!”

“But Cintra is a war zone!”

“And you are hated by its queen and I don’t know if you’ve noticed Geralt but you aren’t exactly inconspicuous.”

“Fuck.”

“I notice you then too, but seriously, what is your plan to get into and out of Cintra without me?”

“Fuck.” he repeats, because, that had been a work in progress - more a kind of kill all the guards and see what happens kind of deal than any real plan - but he hadn;t expected to have to defend himself against Jaskier. Not like this. “Jaskier, no, listen, this is too dangerous and you’re too slow, too-”

“Rot, I am an excellent sprinter!”

Jaskier walks off as though to prove it and Geralt shoves down a scream of frustration until he can feel it begin to curdle his insides and give him a stomach ache. A headache picks up behind his eyes too and he groans to himself in dismay - this had not gone at all the way he had planned. _Ok,_ he tells himself, _new plan._

He works out the details as he rides Roach, he will find a Djinn, and use the wishes to sort this whole mess. He can fix himself, keep Jaskier and his daughter safe and then hide the Djinn or wish for it to not be used anymore - he can work on that. If the Djinn fixes him then his relationship with Jaskier will be so much better - he will be a better partner, a better lover, a better man. One deserving of Jaskier’s time, of his affection, of his love.

_Yes, this is a better idea._

It’s a terrible idea.

Sleep deprived and stressed by the worry of Jaskier and his daughter now seem like a happy childhood memory in contrast to the terror and sick guilt that floods him as he carries Jaskier’s broken body - coughing and retching red blood everywhere. And as if that wasn’t enough, wasn’t the crowning glory of the pinnacle of achievement of Geralt’s life, now there are elves and he needs to find a mage. Find and persuade a mage to heal Jaskier.

Find and persuade a mage to heal Jaskier when he has about three coins to his name - and he is going to need those to pay for an inn for Jaskier to rest in while Geralt goes to get a contract to earn more. 

FUCK.

His day does not get any better when the door opens and there is a naked man standing there and babbling about juice and his mistress. Fuck. _Ok, ok, ok, well, if that’s how he needs to pay the mage then that’s good isn’t it_. That is nothing he hasn’t done before - maybe not for a while, but still. And if it keeps Jaskier with him just a little bit longer before the bard recovers and finally comes to his senses that Geralt is a lousy partner, a lousy person for almost getting him killed. He needs to learn to control his temper.

The mage is female, Geralt smothers a wince those long nails are going to leave marks, and apparently unaware that using mind cotrol to make other people fuck makes her a bad person as she shows off without a shadow of shame or doubt clouding her, admittedly, lovely face.

He cradles Jaskier’s body close, wishing that he didn’t have to let this woman near him - what if Jaskier prefers her to him? Jaskier is going to leave when he is better and he realises how dangerous life with Geralt is (finally) but what if he leaves into the warm arms of this mage. It makes his stomach cramp again with nerves and anger. “We need your help.” he tells her, trying to sound courteous.

“We”? She asks looking him up and down, he can smell budding interest, he half turns and sees Jaskier wave at them. “Just a friend, I hope?” She says and Geralt can’t tell if she is interested in him or in jaskier, he turns back to look at her more fully trying to glean an understanding of who it is she wants. Your heartbeat, it’s extraordinarily slow. “You’re… a mutant?” 

It’s not really a question but he nods all the same, _stupid woman, can’t she tell that Jaskier needs her? Him? Them?_

“A witcher.” he grunts, then remembering that they need her help, offers more politely, “Geralt of Rivia.”

"The famous White Wolf!" She steps closer, bringing the smell of arousal with her and Geralt has to fight not to flinch, not to back away. "I thought you’d have fangs or horns or something."

 _Rude,_ he thinks but doesn't say. Not when Jaskier's life is on the line. Not when his only friend suffers, "I had them filed down."

She chuckles, prowling around him like he's prey, "First time I’ve seen a witcher up close. What little spells can you cast with your hands? Call it professional curiosity."

"Please," he tries hard not to beg, she seems like the kind of woman who would find desperation amusing, "Jaskier here needs immediate attention. And then, if you’d like, I’ll indulge your curiosity all night long." It sickens him to say it, to offer it to this woman, if he has to offer it to anyone he wants to offer it to Jaskier, it's almost worth it then, to know he is giving Jaskier something back on return for the love, affection, the belief that Geralt is human enough to deserve these things.

"It won’t take all night. But I’m sure we can find a way to fill the time." She presses a little closer, her purple eyes showing her interest.

"He was attacked by a djinn." He hurries the conversation on, hoping to get her back on track.

"A djinn?"

"Whatever’s wrong with him, it’s spreading." She tugs the sack out of his hands, _seriously, rude,_ "Fix it and I’ll pay you. Whatever the price."

"You’ll have to do better than juice." She smirks at him and looks up and down his body and he hides a wince, thankfully she turns away, "Ragamuffin!"

Geralt blinks at her wondering if she is mad, but then the scent of magic fades and people around him begin to cry out and grab their clothes. The smell of fear and confusion fills the air. His heart breaks for them, he wants to give the witch a piece of his mind but he dare not risk her withdrawing her cooperation. What does it say about him though, that he is prepared to look the other way on rape if it benefits him. Pressing the thoughts away, he can beat himself up about it later, he gestures towards Jaskier with as much urgency as he thinks he can get away with.

She takes Jaskier away at least, promising that he will be healed, he can see in her eyes that she means it. She wants her reward too badly to let him die.

"He's in a deep healing sleep." 

Geralt jumps, he hadn't heard her as deep int bought as he had been, biting his nails down to the quick in his anxiety that she would reappear and tell him his only friend was dead. His best friend. His lover. As much as he dislikes sex, he does love Jaskier. And the thought of losing him is too much to bear. "How long will he sleep for?" He asks, knowing what she must be here for and hoping that they can get it over with quickly, the waiting is hard on his nerves and he doesn't want Jaskier to find out.

The witch looks him up and down again, and he feels strangely vulnerable under her gaze, "Long enough for you to bathe." She dumps a handful of clean clothes down beside him.

Geralt frown, "How did you… Oh, right. Magic. And I hardly think bathing in this house is gonna leave me any cleaner." He cannot resist a snipe back, because she is not only rude but a rapist and he really is exhausted and on his last nerve and now she is delaying what he knows he must do in order to pay for Jaskier's treatment. He breathes deeply, he loved Jaskier but he wishes the other man had listened and gone to Oxenfurt like he had asked him to. Then he wouldn't be here having to fuck this evil, rapist witch.

"I insist." She demands, "I can not only guess the age and breed of your horse, but also its color… by the smell."

He grunts, he can smell the faked arousal of all the humans she ensnared with magic, their fear when it wore off but is he throwing this in her face? Begrudgingly, he follows her to the bathroom and waits for her to leave. And waits.

And waits.

Eventually she cocks her head and gives him a look. 

He grits his teeth and takes off his clothes. It takes every ounce of strength but he resists the urge to cover himself with his hands and steps into the tub. The water is warm and there is soap - the nice kind he can rarely afford but Jaskier will often bring him in the spring after they have been parted by the snows. The kind Jaskier knows he enjoys. He grits his teeth a little harder and scrubs at his body with the rag he finds beside the tub. 

"Fishing for a djinn seems an extreme measure." The witch says with false lightness and Geralt feels his muscles tense, what does she want?

"When extreme measures seem reasonable, yes, I’m desperate." Because it no longer matters if she is disgusted by him, he would welcome it even.

"And yet you didn’t ask me to help with that."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes is only due to the long hours of practice he has been given at Jaskier's hands, as much as he loves his bard, the other man can pester like it's a devotion. "Looming death kind of jumped the queue. Now I’m wondering if I can afford you. Have I accidentally agreed to indentured servitude?" He is prepared to lower himself for Jaskier's sake but he won't unless it is the only way to keep them safe.

"Everyone else is boring." The witch whines and undresses climbing in next to him, Geralt swallows a protest, she is allowed after all, he supposes. "Turn around." She orders and Geralt grimaces.

She must notice his hesitance or his distaste, "Come now, you promised."

He grunts again not certain he could manage speech.

"Tell me, are there women who find this coarseness charming? Maybe some place where they find your coin very charming indeed." 

He bristles a bit, wanting to protest a bit more, he isn't the one who uses mind control to coorce innocent people into sex. "Hm. You seem to find coin pretty charming yourself. Clearly capitalizing on the political situation here." He snips back beyond done with her attitude.

"I’m serving the stifled people of this town. Filling a need. Ever heard of it?"

Ice floods wondering if she can tell, understands that innate wrongness of him just by looking at him. "Hm. It’s fine to fly in the face of overzealous authority, but to pretend it’s anything other than making a profit…" he tries to steer the conversation back to safer waters, better coin than sex. He can make camp for Jaskier. Roach can look after him. One quick contract they will have coin again and Jaskier can rest up in an inn. Safe and warm.

"And why were you after the djinn?"

"Hmm…" he takes a deep breath and let's it out slowly, forcing his temper down and his heart rate to slow. "Fortunately for you," and me, he thinks, "once I’ve paid for your kind services, it’ll be none of your concern."

"Fortunately for you, I’ve determined your company and conversation payment enough." Geralt stares at her elated but wary, this doesn't make sense. "What’s the matter? Water not suit?" She goads as she rides from the tub and leaves, her clothes forming over her body as she moves.

Geralt breathes until he's calm again, then breathes a little more, in and out. Then he rises from the water, waste of a good bath, he feels just as dirty as he did before he got in, maybe more so, and pulls on his clothes.

He goes in search of Jaskier and finds him still asleep, it's unnerving. Jaskier is movement and song and life. Now he lies as still as a corpse. Jaskier normally talks in his sleep and curls around Geralt like a sea monster, except those are easier to escape from. Geralt can attest to it. 

"Do you doubt my capabilities?" Yennefer asks him, her voice a little chilly as though he had spoken his fears aloud.

"No. Just your intentions. I said some things to him. He’s a…"

"A friend?" The words rub him the wrong way although he cannot imagine how this woman could run him the right way.

"I’d like it not to be the last thing he remembers." He sighs, it's not the ending he wants for them, he doesn't want any kind of ending for them but he knows he is going to carry the misery of causing this... End between them for the rest of his life. He will always know that he brought this on himself.

"He won’t remember much if he’s dead." Geralt feels the earth sway under his feet and turns to look at her, his devastation must be clear on his face as she laughs at him, 'It’s a joke. He will survive. And recover his vocal talents. Does that satisfy you?"

"Not in the slightest. But don’t reproach yourself for it, Yennefer. I’m not easily satisfied." When it comes to Jaskier, alive isn't enough, he wants happy and healthy and prosperous. Alive is the absolute lowest he can go, he wants the world for Jaskier and simply alive isn't nearly good enough. He wishes he could put into words to someone, even the blasted witch, he half turns to try and sort his thoughts when he notices the sign from the seal of the Djinn drawn on the ground by Jaskier's bed. The same Djinn that just tried to kill him. _Fuck_. "It’s the sign from the seal. I’ll be taking Jaskier now."

"If you wake him before he’s healed, the spell won’t take. That’s no way to treat a friend, Geralt." 

_Fuck._

He turns back to her his eyes wide, he has been so stupid by trying to protect Jaskier he has briugh great danger down on him. He is never going to forgive himself. Never. Never. Never.

As he turns she kisses him, for a moment soft then suddenly fierce and biting. 

A sharp pain and then suddenly lezthargy floods his limbs and Geralt's head swims with it. He sways, he must defend Jaskier, down to his last breath, last ounce of strength, what else is there for him. 

His eyes are so heavy, his limbs so incoordination they may as well not be his. Blackness rises up to greet him. 

He opens his eyes, he can tell from the smell he's in jail and for a moment he doesn't remember anything. Jaskier must have gotten them both into trouble.

Again.

Except...

Except that... _Fuck_.

Jaskier isn't here but from the sound of a nearby heartbeat he isn't alone. He turns his head.

"At long last," the elf from the day before says and Geralt considers shutting his eyes again until maybe one day he opens them and things aren't as unremittingly awful as they are now.

He grunts a response and tries to find the strength of will to sit up _, come on,_ he tells himself, _it can't get any worse._

Except it can.

Sentenced to death, again. _Fuck_.

The door opens and the guard walks in just as Chireadan finishes the whole sorry saga of why witches aren't to be trusted, and as far as that goes its evidence number too high to count, but Geralt is nodding along anyway.

"Here you are." The giant bald man grunts and Geralt has to resist the urge to wave sarcastically because, _well spotted_. "Remember me?" The guard continues, but goes on before Geralt can admit that he has not even the smallest, most insignificant idea of who this guy is. "Did not know you were a witcher. I’ve always wanted to play with one."

 _Seriously, what are they putting in the water here?_ Geralt wants to start angrily demanding, no wonder the townspeople want a new mayor, the current one is raising an army of rapists. He needs to run himself or put Roach up as a candidate, she is probably an excellent candidate. The best candidate. 

The guard slaps him around a little and it's a huge relief but the smell of arousal and the words are still pinging around his brain - this could go sour any moment 

The guard head explodes and the elf looks at him out of huge eyes and says, "you're the one with the wishes!" With such earnest innocence that Geralt has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, if he did surely something would snap. Whatever is holding his eyes into his skull. Biting back, heroically, he thinks, on the urge to reply, 'nooooooooo', grabs the elf and makes for the door.

He ends up fighting Yennefer, he can sympathize with her desperate desire to be normal. She is barren, he can smell it and desires nothing more than the life she should have had and he understands her motivation. 

He uses his last wish, _I want to be normal_ , he thinks the words so hard he is sure they must be written on his face or imprinted on the stars. _I want to be normal._

The house collapses around them and the next thing he knows Yennefer is in his lap.

The feeling of terror and revulsion climbs up his throat. Swiftly followed by the bitterness of disappointment

He should be normal.

Why is he not?

He wished for it.

Yennefer finishes with him and stalks away as though she is the injured party. Geralt watches her go, numb to everything but his disappointed misery.

His hands shake as he sits on the floor, his pants around his ankles and it takes him a few moments to will the trembling to stop enough that he can set himself to rights and leave.

Jaskier is waiting for him and the relief hits him so hard that he would cry if he could.

"She was pretty?"

Blinking and taken aback Geralt stops just outside the range of Jaskier's reach.

"I...yes?"

"She showed you a good time! You must have loved it!"

"Uh?" Geralt swallows and runs a hand over his face nauseous, disappointment morphing into outrage. "No...not really."

"Oh, come now, Geralt, I'm not the jealous type. You know that!"

"Do you...fuck other people?" Geralt asks, distracted from the way his belly ties itself in knots and his skin prickles with agitation. If Jaskier says 'yes' then perhaps they can come to an arrangement?

"Sometimes." Jaskier says breezily, "but only when I'm away from you. I could never desire another in your company."

The scent of Jaskier changes, turning bitter, his feelings are hurt.

"I...I'm sorry." Geralt makes himself choke out, as disappointment collapses into shame and regret. "I... I don't-"

"Don't worry." Jaskier turns and walks away.

Geralt feels his stomach drop, feeling a chill of panic run over him.

He follows closely back to town and lies awake next to Jaskier's stiff, unmoving, body.

Things are tense the next morning, Geralt feels the weight of Jaskier's dissatisfaction like a physical presence in the room. He braces himself the whole day for Jaskier to leave, to announce he has had enough.

It doesn't happen.

Geralt guides Roach further up the mountain, being very careful, while trying to watch Jaskier. 

They have lost one member of their team, admittedly an older man who had passed a lot of winters for a human, and Geralt does not want to see anymore. Any of them.

But especially Jaskier.

He has bitten his nails down to the quick and gnawed at them until even his healing powers can't keep up and his fingers are ringed with blood. 

When they stop to make camp Geralt goes to collect firewood, breathing deeply to try and dispel the rising panic. He hates bringing Jaskier into danger.

Hayes being on a mission when his daughter is in danger and he is so far away from her.

His whole body prickles with anxiety when Yennefer looks at him.

Jaskier is jealous and possessive in his jealousy he is eager for touch.

Geralt feels sick with anxiety and lack of sleep.

Even for a witcher he is dangerously exhausted. Everytime he tries to sleep he imagines another's hands on him.

Sometimes he manages to sleep anyway, he dreams that the wish worked. The disappointment upon waking has yet to lessen. He is beginning to understand that it may not.

Geralt sits at the edge of the trees, under the cover of their branches and tries to calm himself. Roach nuzzled at his knee.

She is afraid.

He can feel it and he wants to calm down, to show her that there is nothing to be worried about. 

But his body keeps jerking in fits and starts and he is certain he is going to be sick again.

His own harsh words echo in his head, round and round. The wounded look on Jaskier's face.

Coming back to camp and not being able to find him.

Geralt feels his body shake harder even as Roach presses more firmly against him.

"I fucked up." He presses his face into her neck. "Oh, shit, I fucked up."

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to guess what Geralt shouted at Jaskier in this universe....


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out they couldn't sort out the mess in one chapter. Even with Geralt being uncharacteristically chatty and helpful.

Geralt has no idea, when he thinks back on it later, how he gets down the mountain.

His heart is racing, almost quick enough to be fast by human standards let alone witcher, and his vision keeps blurring as he walks.

Not tears he can't cry but stress and misery.

He feels hollowed out and numb.

His own words screamed at Jaskier when it had all become too much.

Yennefer had been so close to him, the smell of her body, of her interest had made his whole body twitch away without his evening meaning too. Jaskier had put out a hand to steady him. Looking back he can see how it was meant to be supportive and encouraging. But Jaskier's hand had been so low down on his back. 

Just above the swell of his ass and he'd lost it.

The look of bewilderment of Jaskier's face when he had verbally torn strips off the bard haunt him.

He sees Jaskier's devastated face in his dreams.

He regrets the bitterness, the rage he threw at Jaskier.

But even through the haze of anxiety, the constant refrain of 'you fucked up' that rolls through his mind he cannot totally regret telling Jaskier he didn't like the sex. It had weighed heavy on him to be lying to Jaskier. Especially when Jaskier should really have found a better partner. One who wanted him in the right way.

It still hurts though to know he hurt Jaskier. To know that he has  _ lost _ Jaskier.

He bites his lip and keeps moving.

He has to find Cirila, she is lost and vulnerable and totally orphaned now. He is all she has left.

The weight of the responsibility lies heavily upon him.

It takes almost a month to track her down and he is relived when she comes running up and throws herself into his arms. He is even more relived when the nightmares he's been having about being touched, the ones that make his skin prickle and leave him gasping and sometimes vomiting with the panic of it, don't resurface and force him to reject her touch. 

He is able to keep calm, even when she clutches at him, and Geralt mentally gives himself a point for at least not being a terrible father right from the beginning. He can at least manage to hug his child.

"You were crying in your sleep."

Geralt drops the firewood he had been holding and bites back a curse as it lands on his feet. "Uh?" He says intelligently, "I can't cry."

Citi gives him a look that he can only describe as withering. It's terrifying how contemptuous she can be. "Yes," she says slowly as though talking to a very small child. "You don't make tears but you can still cry. And you." She points at him and Geralt recoils a little, "were crying."

"Umm, well... I....the thing is." Geralt stops and considers, "I don't know how to explain and I think you might be too young even if I could." He admits, knowing that she is too old to be fobbed off by dismal and too smart to be deflected.

"Are you hurting now?"

"All the time." He says without thinking.

"Yeah, I miss my family." Ciri looks away, her eyes very shiny with unshed tears, "can we fix it?"

"I don't think so." Geralt tells her gently, "it is me."

"You're upset because of you?"

"I was mean to a friend." He says eventually before moving to start the fire.

"What did you do?"

"Uh... Well, I said some mean things."

"Mean?"

"Some truthful but I should have been nicer, much, much nicer and some just because I was angry."

"Can you apologise?"

Geralt shifts as he leans down to breathe on the embers of the fire to get it to flame into life, as always pushing down the vulnerability of being on his knees with his ass raised. It gives him a few moments to think. "I am not sure he will want to hear it." He says, still staring into the flames, "and I don't want to apologise if it's just to make me feel better, and we can't go back to the way things were."

"Could you just say you're sorry and leave?"

Geralt pokes the fire with a stick until it blazes higher. "Yeah." He tells her at last, "I could do that."

He almost doesn't.

He walks into a tavern after a battle that he had been certain was going to be his last. Onto the thought of leaving Cirila had given him the impetus to fight holding his internal organs in with one hand and stabbing at the vampire with the other. He is a mess.

He needs to get his head in the game and be less distracted.

Then he sees Jaskier sitting against the wall of the grimy tavern. He looks beautiful and Geralt chokes on his own breath which jars his still healing abdominal muscles.

His wheeze of pain alerts Jaskier who looks up and they lock eyes.

Geralt almost runs.

He probably would have, he has to admit it to himself if no-one else, if he was physically able. Instead he stands stock still as Jaskier comes closer.

"I'm sorry!" He blurts, and  _ stupid, _ it's much too loud and much too agressive and everyone in the tavern stops talking and turns to face him.

Jaskier's blue, perfectly blue like a warm summer sky, eyes widen and his mouth opens, closes and opens again. "Can I help you to your room?" Jaskier asks, as though they are strangers and Geralt feels his heart sink, "uh, shit, no...not...not for. I mean, I won't... Fuck!"

"A hand would be great," Geralt offers, wondering if it is still on offer.

Wordlessly, Jaskier hitches one of Geralt's arms over his shoulders and takes some of his weight. "Abdominal wound?" 

"Yeah, it's not so bad though."

"You said that when a Griffin nearly severed your head."

They make their way up the stairs and Geralt can feel Jaskier pressed along his side and he bites his lip bloody in an effort not to cry.

"I am sorry." He plants his feet and refuses to go up another step, "I really am, I was such a shit to you. I am so sorry, Jaskier."

"Geralt," Jaskier bites out, his voice is rough and Geralt can smell tears. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I hurt you!"

"And  _ I raped _ you!" Jaskier shouts back.

A soft voice clears its throat behind them and they both break apart. "Excuse me." A man says, his face is very red and he is avoiding looking either of them in the face. "Just need to get to my room."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Geralt steps back and let's the man squeeze past them.

They stand pressed against the wall as the other man’s footsteps echo off the walls and into the distance, a door closes and they are once again alone.

Geralt stares at Jaskier’s chin rather than look at his face, before realising that it might look like he is looking at the other man’s lips and dragging his eyes away.

"Let me help you to your room." Jaskier offers, and he sounds stuff. Awkward and unhappy.

_ I did that.  _ Shame bubbles in Geralt's belly and he drops his eyes to his feet.

Jaskier takes some of his weight again and they carry on up the stairs. Geralt opens the door to the room he rented, Ciri is asleep in the bed, her blonde hair peeking over the top of the blankets.

"Your child surprise?"

"Yes, I found her. Ciri."

"About time."

Geralt nods absently as he limps towards the tub. He dips a hand in.

Cold.

A blast of igni and steam rolls off the water, Geralt looks at it longingly, before turning away.

Jaskier is hovering anxiously in the doorway. "I'll just," he gestures over his shoulder, "go then."

"I...I just want you to know I am sorry. For... I...I... You're my best friend, my.... I love you. I.... We... I... We can have sex."

Jaskier's face makes a convulsive little movement and then it's all eyes and teeth as he struggles not to cry. "Don't... how can you say that?"

"Can we talk?" Geralt nods at Citi. "If I have a bath and go downstairs for dinner will you stay?"

"I...I don't know why you want that?"

"Can you trust that I do?"

"Honestly, Geralt? No. I can't. You literally just said- Listen, I accept I raped you. I get that but I wish.... I wish you'd told me even once that you didn't like the sex. I... It wasn't necessary... I liked it sure but-"

"It wasn't necessary?"

"What? Of course not."

"But..."

"Geralt?" Jaskier looks white faced and frightened. It doesn't make sense, why should he be frightened?

"That's what people want isn't it?"

"Have a bath, Geralt, I'll be in the bar. We need to talk."

"I..yeah."

Jaskier leaves and worried that he will leave and keep on walking until he has walked right back out of his life, Geralt washes up much more quickly than he normally would.

He doesn't spot Jaskier at first when he makes it back downstairs and his body goes so weak that he has to sit on the bottom step to even begin to try and sort through the emotional devastation.

"Woah? Geralt are you alright? Still feeling woozy? You should let... Someone should have a look at that wound you always do a poor job of stitching them. Did you stitch it properly."

Geralt leans into the wall of sound feeling it wrap around him. He can remember when it used to annoy him, when he couldn't think past it.

Now he misses it.

He has missed it so much.

"Will you check it?"

At his side Jaskier goes still.

"Sorry, you don't have to. I just meant-"

"I'll check it if you want."

"Not if it'll make you uncomfortable."

Jaskier sighs, "let's get you something to eat first. You're thin. Too thin. Have you been giving Ciri all your food?"

"She's growing."

"You let her ride Roach too, don't you."

"She gets tired easily."

"Not everyone in the world is more important than you Geralt. You have needs too. I wish I had been more attentive to them."

"You were."

Jaskier doesn't look at him. Instead, staring at the table. His jaw working. "Not nearly enough." Jaskier draws a hand over his face, "why did you have sex if you hated it so much? God's, you could have told me to stop. You could have stopped me."

"I...I... People fuck their lovers, Jaskier."

"Not when they don't want to, Geralt."

"Yeah, but, I never want to." The sentence dies in his mouth ending as an agonised whisper.

"Then we didn't have to."

"But you want it."

"I want to eat dinner with you. And wash your hair." Jaskier links his hands together, squeezing until his knuckles go white. His face is tense and his eyes so miserable that Geralt wants to be able to cry to get rid of the aching misery in his throat. "I want to walk beside you, and to stand next to you. I didn't want to hurt you. But I did."

"No, I..."

"Geralt, you screamed at me to not touch you. You had a panic attack because I was too close to you. Not surprisingly. That is how people react to their abusers."

"You didn't abuse me."

"I raped you. Repeatedly. For years."

"N-"

"That's what it's called when you have sex with someone who doesnt want it or who can't.consent."

"I know that," Geralt growls annoyed, "I do. I'm not stupid." Despite not being able to form tears his voice wavers. "I do know things."

"I know you do."

They sit in silence for a long time.

"Would you have stayed with me?" Geralt asks eventually. Needing to know even knowing that either way the answer is going to hurt.

"Geralt." Jaskier pauses and draws a hand across his eyes, "I've been in love with you since I was 20. 20 years old. I am 39. I spent half my life with you. I would have stayed with you even if you had never wanted to even let me sleep next to you."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They sit silently again.

"Did... I ever..."

Geralt braces himself to answer questions. Jaskier is going to want to know if Geralt liked it sometimes, if despite the revulsion he made it good. If he pleased Geralt with his cock. It's important to normal people he knows that. They want to be told that they are good in bed, that they are-

"Did I ever hurt you? Physically, I mean. I know I hurt you emotionally, but physically?"

"No."

"Don't lie."

Geralt shifts, uncomfortable, "no, you didn't hurt me. Sometimes it was uncomfortable for me, I would struggle to relax enough but you always prepped us both well, so no you didn't hurt me."

Jaskier stares at him for a few moments, clearly trying to catch him in a lie. "Alright." He says at last. "Although, even uncomfortable isn't good. I never wanted that."

Geralt nods, unhappy that Jaskier is still unhappy and his apology didn't work but he knows Jaskier has a point. He did lie to Jaskier for years, it is understandable that the other is furious. "I am sorry." He offers again, just in case it matters now.

Jaskier bites his lip and Geralt can smell his anxiety, the bitter salt of tears. "I know but I don't think you're sorry for the right-" he cuts himself off and waves a hand, "why are you sorry?"

"Because I upset you."

"See." Jaskier demands, "that's the point," he gestures wildly, "you're not sorry because you hurt yourself, you're sorry because you hurt me."

"I don't hurt myself."

"You flinched from me."

"When?" Geralt demands, he had always worked hard to make sure he was receptive to Jaskier.

"On the mountain." Jaskier replies, "you were.... distraught because you had to stand and be with your rapist."

Geralt digs his thumbs into his thighs - using the pain to remain in control. "I...I was upset by Yen."

"Yen?"

"I...I really, really didn't like the sex after the djjn." He admits finally, and the words bubble up before he can stop them, "and you....you acted like it was a joke or something to be proud of. I hated that." He pauses, makes himself shut up and takes a deep breath, it wavers, "I'm sorry. It's just she was so close to me and all I could think about was her on top of me, her hands touching me, the way it smelt. I was trying...trying to deal, but when she touched me it was so.... I couldn't." The dissatisfaction of Jaskier's anger comes back, "you told me I loved it." He comes out an accusation and he bites it back - hasty words got him into this mess. They won't get him out of it.

"I was jealous," Jaskier says, "and stupid, very very stupid and I am so sorry."

Geralt feels a tense part of him unfurl at the apology. "I shouldn't have lied to you."

"No, but I can see why you did. You thought I would leave?"

Unable to force words through a numb, tight throat he nods.

"I want you to know, it was never about the sex. Or...at least not just the sex. The sex was, for me anyway, fantastic but it wasn't the be all and end all. I love you."

"Oh." Geralt feels a bit faint, for all they have travelled together and everything else, Jaskier has never said that. "I...I love you, have for...a long time." It's stiff and very awkward but he feels better saying it.

"We are idiots."

"Hmmm." He agrees.

"Why didn't you tell me that Yennefer had raped you?"

Geralt struggles to find the words - a difficult task most days but now...almost impossible. "I didn't think I would have to, I thought you'd know." He shakes his head, accepting the stupidity of it, "and I was surprised when you didn't. I thought I was being weird again. People like sex. And witchers do too. This is just me... I didn't want you to know how..broken I am. I can't be fixed."

"You're not broken, you are who you are."

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Geralt wakes the next morning and his eyes feel gritty with exhaustion. He wipes a hand across his face and cups it over his nose and mouth to take a second breath of warm, pre-breathed carbon dioxide. It steadies him a little.

He looks across at Ciri's blonde hair, tousled, above the edge of her blanket and something relaxes in his chest at the sight of his daughter. He looks about for Jaskier and his heart sinks when he cannot see him. He should have known that Jaskier would not stay.

He makes himself get up.

His heart hurts with his loss but he makes himself endure. Packing his things and checking under the beds to be sure that Ciri has not left anything. When he is sure the room is clear he wakes her and slowly gets them ready to leave.

He lingers on his way downstairs.

Just in case Jaskier should appear and want to join them.

No one appears.

They leave town.

Nothing.

Geralt thanks every god and goddess he can name for the fact that he cannot cry.

Makes himself feel relieved that it ended before Ciri grew to love Jaskier even half as much as he did. It would have killed her to lose him after getting to know him. He know that it would. It's killing him.

Beside him Ciri talks about anything and everything, it's good. Great even.

When she first came to him she was so quiet, so sad and now she talks and laughs.

It heals his heart a little to see her happy.

They stop for lunch, earlier than they should really. They have been crawling along and he can't admit to himself why, but the slow pace is irritating him anyway.

He leaves Ciri with the horses and heads into the woods to find some game and maybe some berries or some fruit if he's lucky. He knows how much she likes the sweetness.

When he is heading back, a brace of rabbits clutched in one hand, he has made sure to butcher and skin them away from camp as Ciri despite her best efforts at nonchalance clearly hates it, when he hears and the sounds of voices and he books it.

Sprinting back towards her as fast as he can.

It's Jaskier, because... of course it is.

"You," Jaskier says, pointing a finger, "are in trouble."

Geralt feels his stomach drop, wondering what Jaskier is going to need to forgive him. "I..."

"Sneaking off like that."

"I didn't!" His voice is much shriller than he thinks it's ever been since the mutations. "I didn't." He repeats forcing his voice back to a more natural register. "You left."

"To collect my things... And my horse. Gods, Geralt, I left a note!"

"Where?"

"The windowsill."

"Oh....I didn't think to look there."

"Your father has many, many wonderful attributes, Ciri darling, but critical thinking isn't one of them."

Ciri snorts and Geralt feels an inexplicable rush of hurt. 

"But," Jaskier continues, "it's all for the best, otherwise he'd be too perfect."

"Yeah." Ciri grins over her shoulder and Geralt feels his heart melting at the sight of her face, so relaxed and happy. And with Jaskier's face so close by, it's simultaneously everything he's ever wanted and too much to bear.

"I dropped our dinner." He turns and walks off 

"We love you too!" Jaskier calls after him.

The smell of cooking rabbit fills the air and Ciri wanders a few meters away to practice her archery skills, taking aim at individual tree leaves, she needs the practice still or Vesemir is going to kill Geralt. Make him do laps all winter for letting her training stagnate. 

"She is a great kid."

"The best."

"I meant it, you know."

"What?"

"That we love you."

"I love you too." It's a struggle to admit, he feels like both of them are going to laugh and it will have been a joke somehow... But Jaskier just bites his lip.

"Can I... Does it make you feel uncomfortable for me to touch you? Like a hug or holding hands? Or leaning against you shoulder? I love you, so much, I want to know where your boundaries are."

"I don't mind."

"Geralt, no." Jaskier's voice is so serious that he has to stop and turn to look. Even Jaskier's face is serious, brows draw down over his eyes and lips set in a thin line. "Don't do that. Don't put me and my needs over yours. I don't want a martya I want a partner." Jaskier sighs, "I want to know what you like and what you don't. Hurting you, even a little isn't fun for me, it's not sexy or amusing or tolerable. I want to know, the only way this, we, can work is if we are honest."

"I like hugs." Geralt blurts, feeling as chastened as he used to when Vesemir started any dressing down with the words 'I am disappointed'. "And when you mean against me, holding hands is... Different. I don't really like it when other people can see. Not that I am ashamed of you, but they must be wondering why you're slumming it with a mutant and I know they look at me. I know I shouldn't care..."

"But it makes you nervous?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what else you like?"

"Rubbing your back, when you wash my hair." He shrugs, "when you sleep next to me and you don't smell of fear." He looks across at Jaskier from under his lashes, "what about you?"

"When we are honest with each other. I am sorry that I didn't understand...no, that I didn't even try to understand about Yennefer."

Geralt shifts, still feeling the anxiety and shale of that. "It's ok, everyone says the same thing. It's me not-"

"Lots of people are like you."

Geralt snorts.

"No, really, Geralt, some people like sex with men, some with women, some with both, do you really think you are the only one who likes it with none?"

"Seems like it."

"Society is very narrow minded."

"Yeah."

The rabbit begins to burn and he takes it off the flames, calling for Ciri and splitting it into portions as she comes over.

They travel on together. It's like they had never parted in many ways but, for Geralt, even better.

Jaskier asks before each hug, each gentle, touch, Geralt finds he can even enjoy, really  _ enjoy,  _ kissing when he knows it's going to happen and knows he can say 'no'. 

And have his 'no' heard.

He understands that just as Jaskier is stepping out of his comfort zone to meet Geralt in his that he needs to meet Jaskier in one of his comfort zones to reciprocate.

He takes music lessons.

All winter long when Jaskier is in Oxenfurt, he hopes the last winter that they are ever parted. 

Eskel helps him.

He finds the courage to speak to his brother.

Eskel doesn't understand, but he doesn't judge. He listens and tries to comprehend. Geralt loves his brother for the attempt even if he knows that his lack of desire is as incomprehensible to Eskel and Eskel's desire is to him. They accept their differences and bond over their shared similarities as they have done since they were toddlers.

He doesn't tell Lambert or Vesemir. Some things are too...private to share with his little brother and his father.

Spring comes and with it the warmer weather, he leads Ciri back down the mountain and they go in search of their bard.

Jaskier is sitting in the weak early spring sunshine when they find him. Ciri sneaks up on him like a kitten, too pleased with her own cleverness to realise that she is doing it pretty badly, her shadow stretching out in front of her to announce her arrival. Jaskier does a suitably convincing impression of a terrified man anyway, grinning over her blonde hair at Geralt while putting praise and encouragement onto Ciri.

"I used to have such mixed feelings about meeting up with you in the spring." The words slip out and he wants to take them back.

"Oh?" Jaskier doesn't smell upset or hurt and Geralt allows his heart rate to come down again. "Why?"

"I was always so pleased to see you. I miss you, but we would celebrate with sex and after a winter without it was hard." He doesn't specify how or why it was hard, they have had enough conversations about that for Jaskier to know and he doesn't want to tread over old ground. "This has been the best spring yet." He pauses from the act of rubbing Jaskier's shoulders, the bard's clothed buttocks just under him as he sits across the lowest part of Jaskier's back. 

"Yes," Jaskier says sleepily, he pulls at Geralt's arm until they are lying nose to nose. "Everyday with you, my darling, is the best one yet. Especially when you're more you now than you've ever been. It suits you."

"Do you...regret? Miss it? Sex, I mean?"

"No. I can have a sex life-" Jaskier waves one hand and gestures, presumably he thinks Geralt doesn't know about that at all, apparently forgetting who could make him come in under a minute from carefully practiced handjobs, "and I have you. Where is there room for regret?"


End file.
